


The Undocumented Effects of Illegal Sex Potions

by redsnake05



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Ministry of Magic, Porn with Feelings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9178723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05
Summary: The problem, Ron reflected, with repressing one's reluctant lust for one's lifelong enemy, was that fate had a sick sense of humour, and Malfoy was everywhere. Ron finally gets to work a case that promises to be interesting and important, but he also gets Draco Malfoy and some illegal sex potion. It's okay, this potion wears off quickly.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reeby10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/gifts), [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/gifts).



> I might have gotten a bit carried away with this fic, but I hope you will enjoy it anyway

Ron wasn't sure what he'd done to annoy his boss, but it must have been spectacular. Being assigned to attend a cross-department briefing was his idea of a special hell, but all attempts to question it had been cut short. He was stuck. To be fair, he'd been working this case for six months, and it was reasonable that someone had to go, he just wasn't convinced it should be him.

He slouched into the appointed meeting room, one of the tiny ones out the back on the eleventh floor, a little ahead of the set time to find a few witches and wizards already there. He recognised a couple of them, nodded, and found a spot he liked at the tiny table. He was a bit particular about that after being an Auror for a few years; he was half-wondering when he would start muttering about constant vigilance.

The table was nearly full, and Dorothea Broome, from Kingsley's office, was about the start, when the door opened and Draco Malfoy strode in. He paused on the threshold, looking momentarily lost, before Dorothea waved him in. His habitual expression of unconcern slid back into place, until he realised the only spare seat was next to Ron. His look of contempt was marvellous. Ron didn't bother to respond. He just wanted the meeting to be over with, and, besides, Malfoy hated it when Ron didn't notice him.

Broome droned on an on, the usual reminders about discretion and the Ministry's core business, and so on, and introductions were made, and it seemed the usual type of meeting, until Broome stood and got out her wand. She sealed the room with a few brisk movements, and Ron felt the strength of those charms sizzle slightly on his skin. He felt renewed interest; these were not standard issue privacy charms. Despite the lacklustre introduction, this meeting had now taken an intriguing turn. Next to him, he felt Malfoy shift uneasily, obviously having felt the magic too.

Broome's voice was crisper, and she spoke without the familiar, dull cadence of a proper Ministry official. Ron remembered that she had started out in MLE, before spending time in the Department of Mysteries and then going into the Minister's office. He had thought this was going to be the usual reassuring blather to the other departments, and then he would reassure them that the Aurors had it under control, and then he'd be able to get back to work, but it seemed that Broome had something else in mind.

"Now that we have those boring preliminaries out of the way, and will have satisfied any chance onlooker that we are a harmless, indeed pointless, briefing meeting, let us get to the heart of the matter.

"We've noticed an increase in the number of illegal potion-making enterprises. Worse, we've noticed they are better informed about Ministry practices and able to avoid detection for longer, and are increasingly able to abandon or shift their operation when they are detected. We believe that there is some evidence of corruption and shady dealing in the Ministry that has led to this. It has been under investigation by the Aurors and the MLE, which is why Mr Weasley is with us today."

Ron didn't react outwardly, but his mind was racing. This was far, far different from the usual inter-department briefing. Usually, this much would never be disclosed, so he was sure there was more to it than he'd first thought, and he wished his boss had told him. Around the room, there was little reaction, so either Broome had prepared them, or she'd chosen people who had perfected their ability to hide what they were thinking. Ron was pretty sure it was the latter, and he realised, with a slight sense of unease, that perhaps his boss didn't know what Broome intended.

He didn't know everyone in the room, but he'd worked with some of them before. Malfoy, though, was a surprise, but one Ron hadn't allowed to show on his face. As far as he knew, Malfoy was a policy analyst and researcher attached to the archives; an intriguing choice for this task force. There had not been a hint of scandal or residual darkness attached to his name since the war, and Ron was sure Broome would be looking for more concrete skills than one's friends and associates in a task force of this type. 

It was with the liveliest curiosity, therefore, that he listened to Broome outline the investigation so far, and the reason for this meeting. It was a bold move, to involve the other departments at this level, though Ron could appreciate the reasoning. Not all the leaks in information, or the strategies to avoid the notice of the Ministry, could come from within the Aurors. Ron knew that sports events were a common place to exchange and transport goods, and that explained the presence from that department. The Wizengamot itself was not without potential holes, and one of the senior secretaries was here. The department for Muggle relations was easily explainable, but Ron still couldn't quite figure out Malfoy's presence.

At the end of the discussion,Broome handed round small samples of the potions, more to set the stage than anything else, Ron was sure, as a sort of contraband show and tell. It was unlikely that actual exchange or manufacturing was going on inside the Ministry itself, but it was possible she wanted them all to know what they were looking for. Still, there was nothing to impress the importance of a task on you like handling a tiny bag of powder worth ten galleons. Dead bodies had the same effect. Ron watched Draco take one of the bags in the very tips of his fingers and look at it gingerly. This one was unusual, a thick red slime that Ron had only seen once before, and he leaned forward for a better look.

The explosion took them all by surprise, tiny though it was. The pop and splash of the potion should have been minor; Ron had come across this particular trap before. A little charm that made a bag randomly explode after a certain period of time was fairly common, for malice or to discourage hoarding, though he would have thought that whomever prepared the samples for this meeting would have checked that the trap was removed. More concerningly, the potion splashed all over Malfoy and Ron's hands and arms. 

Ron cursed. He saw Malfoy draw his wand to clean the residue from his arm and reached out to stop him. As they touched, Ron felt the potion start to activate, and it sank swiftly into his skin. 

"Non-magical cleaning only," he said. "We don't know much about this one; best to avoid magic for now."

Malfoy nodded, and looked pointedly down to where Ron's hand still gripped his arm. Ron felt oddly reluctant to draw back, but he did. The potion was nearly absorbed now, but washing was still always the best next step. He asked Broome to conjure them a bowl and water, reluctant to risk magic on his own account. The meeting broke up into smaller groups, and Ron turned back to Malfoy to find him watching. The look was intent, certainly nothing like the contemptuous sneers that Ron was accustomed to receiving. Then it was gone and the look of bored distaste was back.

"So the great Auror department can't even keep us safe in our own meetings," he said. "I suppose you're responsible for this? I'd like to speak to your boss about your incompetence."

Broome must have overheard, because she interrupted before Ron could speak.

"No one knows what I have done here today but all of you and the Minister. You won't be speaking to anyone about it, Malfoy, or any of you." She turned to encompass the rest of the group with her glare.

"Never fear, Malfoy, this isn't one of the addictive ones," Ron said, just starting to feel the familiar burn of irritation from too much time interacting with Malfoy. He pushed it down as best he could, but couldn't quell it completely. "We don't see it very often, and think it's quite a niche product. Very expensive, very exclusive - and shouldn't that make you feel better, to know that Malfoys still get the fanciest illicit things?"

Malfoy closed his lips tightly and looked furious. Ron guessed he hated being reminded of the swift downward trajectory of his family and their tarnished past.

"So what will it do to me, Weasley? Exactly how am I going to be inconvenienced by the inadequacies of the Auror department, inadequacies that led me to being summoned here in the first place?"

Ron hesitated. He took his time rinsing his arm, though most of the slime was absorbed now. His hand brushed against Malfoy's arm again, and the fleeting contact left a little tickle of sensation in its wake. He met Malfoy's gaze, trying to read what he found there, but it was impossible. 

"It's for sex," he said at last. "It makes it… more intense, apparently."

"Let me get this straight," said Malfoy, and Ron could hear the tightly controlled rage underneath his calmness. "Thanks to some idiot in your department - probably still you - I have been dosed with an unusual sex potion? Yes? And now what? What happens? How do I fix this?"

Ron grabbed Malfoy's wrist and hauled it out of the water from where he'd been on the verge of overturning the basin. The contact was a mistake, though; Ron had never thought his fingers could encircle Malfoy's skin quite so easily, and he thought fleetingly of how good it would feel to run his hands up his arms, over the soft skin, to wrap around his shoulders. He let go as if Malfoy burned him, and conjured a towel. 

"Nothing happens, as far as we know," Ron said. "It wears off."

Ron could tell from Malfoy's face that this was not a good answer, but Broome interrupted them again, before Malfoy could really get going.

"Right," she said, to the assembled meeting, as she banished the basin of water. "Are we all clear about our individual roles in this operation?"

There was a murmur of agreement, even though Malfoy's muttered acknowledgement was grudging. Broome lifted the spells with a flick and then shuffled her papers in the most Ministry-drone way possible.

"Thanks for coming," she said. "Auror Weasley, can you wait a moment, please?"

The rest of the group shuffled out, eager to go home, possibly wanting to digest today's meeting in peace. Malfoy sent him one last, furious, look before settling his bland, disdainful expression in place and leaving.

Broome gathered up her papers and looked at him steadily. Once, he would have fidgeted under the scrutiny, but he had learned a lot about himself in the service of the Aurors and saw no reason to speak until she did.

"Sorry about the potion," she said. "I'm sure you've realised I didn't get them through your department, and your boss doesn't know, or need to know, about the meeting today."

"I figured," said Ron.

"Good. I'll be in touch."

She left, and Ron strolled slowly down the corridors to his office. He'd learned a lot in rather a short space of time, and had to wonder just why Broome had picked him out of the Auror team to go to her meeting. He was still relatively new at the job, just five years in, and she could have chosen someone vastly more experienced. He put the thoughts aside as he approached the Auror offices. He could think about it more when he got home.

>>>>

Ron woke up disoriented, in a jumble of sheets and half-remembered dreams. His skin felt itchy, and he was uncomfortably turned on. He twisted his hands together and stretched, arching against the sheets, and his mind supplied him with the image of Malfoy's arms stretched above his head, Ron's hands around the wrists, pinning them there. The image was hotter than it had any right to be, and Ron slumped back into the pillows, willing his erection to go away.

He couldn't stop his traitorous mind, though. His subconscious seemed to have a never ending supply of dirty images involving Malfoy, and Ron's hands in his hair, soft on his throat as they kissed, under his arse holding him still and perfect for all the things they wanted to do together.

Rolling over, Ron determinedly tried to think of something else. His forearm itched and he scratched it absently while trying to think of the most repulsive things possible. He paused, fingers stilling on his skin. That was where he'd been splashed with the potion, and where he'd touched Malfoy that afternoon.

Ron groaned. It was just his luck that, when handed a most interesting and intriguing piece of subterfuge in the confidence of the Minister himself, he also had to accidentally be dosed with a rare aphrodisiac potion in the company of Draco Malfoy. He wondered if Malfoy was having the same problem, and tried quickly to stop that thought when his brain supplied him with an image of Malfoy, naked on his sheets, fisting his cock and biting his lip, face halfway towards bliss. His cock hardened in spite of himself. Malfoy was sharp all over, with lovely smooth skin that would feel good to touch and kiss. Ron was both aroused and appalled with himself.

He tried to force himself to think of the facts. This would be over soon. The potion would work its way out of his system and he'd be fine, and it would be like it had never been. It was just an unfortunate accident. He got out of bed and wrapped his dressing gown round him before wandering into the tiny kitchenette for a drink of water. The night was cool and quiet, and he looked out over the rooftops and tried not to think at all.

An idea popped into his head, and he put the glass down slowly. He'd long thought that the charms on the bags of illegal potions would be a good way to find out more about some of the people in the trade. His boss, understandably, wanted the charms removed immediately, so the potions could be stored for evidence in any future cases. Ron had the residue of one right now though; he'd automatically shoved the little broken bag of potion into a department evidence bag and put it in his pocket. He happened to know a charms expert, who might be persuaded to take a look at it in the morning.

Ron slipped his dressing gown off and crawled back into bed, hoping that sleep would come easily to him now. He sprawled out comfortably, remembering how Hermione had used to call this his tummy rub position; well, and some more uncomplimentary names as their relationship came to an end. Unbidden, an image of Malfoy's hands rubbing his stomach, sliding lower, teasing him, came to mind, and he cursed all illegal potion manufacturers, his bosses, and Draco Malfoy's pointy face, as sleep fled from him again.

Ron's dick hardened as he thought about the way Malfoy's skin had felt under his fingers, the way his pulse had jumped and he'd swallowed hard when Ron had grabbed him before he'd gotten angry. Ron had never thought of it before, but Malfoy wasn't cold or indifferent. He couldn't stop himself from imagining all that passion focused on him, and Ron forgot restraint.

He jerked himself off quickly, desperately, hoping to get it over and done with so he could go back to never thinking about Malfoy sexually again. He couldn't stop the images that appeared in his mind: Malfoy spread out on the sheets, Malfoy's mouth on Ron's cock, Malfoy breathing his name as they fucked, Malfoy's hands clutching Ron close. His orgasm was intense, leaving Ron sweaty, shaken and sticky. He curled up and slept.

>>>>

Ron knocked politely on the door to Hermione's office and waited for her to invite him in. She was doing something incomprehensible with what looked like three sticks and a ball of wool, but he supposed the Department of Mysteries was the sort of place where this was legitimate work.

Ron liked the wards in this department. Once he was inside Hermione's tiny office, it was like being surrounded by a thick bubble of quiet. He would have to ask her one day how it was done. For now, though, he dropped into the seat she indicated and accepted a cup of tea. 

"So, is this a professional visit?" she asked. He grinned at her.

"I would never use work hours to pay a personal call," he said, affecting an air of virtue. "This is not just a professional visit, it is a confidential professional visit."

"Very good, that sounded almost plausible," said Hermione, though he could see the gleam of curiosity in her eyes. He could understand; while they were slowly picking up the pieces of being friends again, this sort of casual visit was something they hadn't done since splitting up. He looked around her room carefully before starting to speak, and let the ambient magic of the wards sink into him. There was some careful dampening, he could tell that, but it was the quietening that he was most relieved by.

"When I say confidential, I mean it," he said. She nodded, and he could see she understood that he was serious. "I'm wondering if a charm - a trap charm, say - can be analysed to find the person who set it."

He removed the evidence bag from his pocket and gingerly extracted the bag with the aid of a pair of rubber gloves. 

"For some reason," he said, "some bags - not all, never all - are charmed with a particular kind of spell, that causes them to explode. It's not dangerous." He thought of the previous night and the itch in his skin and the almost painful thirst he'd felt for Malfoy and pushed that aside. "Well, seldom dangerous. We think it's to deter hoarding, or to make evidence useless by contamination, but…."

He trailed off, and got up to shut the door. He added his own silence spell, one so fierce that the cups rattled with it. Hermione's eyebrows raised, but she waited for him to continue without speaking.

"The end result is that all illegal potions we find, in whatever packaging, are routinely run through some kind of denaturing or disarming process, where all spells are stripped from them. Now, it occurs to me that this potentially removes a lot of useful and interesting information that a clever analyst could pull from the spell residue."

"Such as?" Hermione asked.

"The trap spell used," he answered. "It's something non-standard. Something developed specifically for this use, and I'd like to know what it's based on. I mean, why add the spell at all? It could be to thwart the Aurors somehow, to force us to wipe the goods clean. If so, that means there must be something identifying in the goods themselves. The charm also exists on all bags and bundles, no matter how big or small, so either people really love it, or it stays with the potion even after it's divided up, and I've never heard of that before."

Hermione looked thoughtful, and Ron was surprised. He'd not really realised he had all that thinking behind a half-formed hunch.

"And you think that if you can follow these charms, it might lead you to a brewer of illegal potions?"

"Better yet, the person who had the idea of how to thwart the Aurors, who must have somehow heard of how we store it and how awkward it would be if the storage was contaminated."

"Okay, so let's say that someone - a very clever someone - could get this information. You've said that the stuff gets routinely stripped."

Ron put the package and evidence bag on the table between them.

"Use gloves," he said.

"Oh, I shall," she said, looking at the package with mingled curiosity and distaste. "Do I want to know how you obtained this?"

Ron hesitated, unsure of whether to say Broome had supplied it. On the one hand, Hermione was likely to know Broome, and maybe have worked with her before. On the other, confidential was confidential, and he'd bent the rules on that one already.

"Don't tell me," she said, having read his face correctly. Ron remembered how that used to irritate him, when she would figure out what he was feeling or thinking without bothering to consult him. It merely amused him now, with a vague, nostalgic warmth. "However, if you want to start in on how things are stored, pay a visit to the archive. I believe the Auror's evidence lockers use the same entrance, and share the storage space."

"Be careful," said Ron. She looked up at him and nodded. "I'm going to raise my spell and storm out of here like you just broke my heart," he said. "Don't take it personally."

"Your heart is in excellent shape," she replied. He smiled at her, before lifting his spell, dashing his cup to the ground, and stalking from the room. He thought he could hear tears behind him, but it was probably Hermione laughing like a hyena into her hankie. He could see how they might sound the same.

Ron dawdled the further he got from the Department of Mysteries. He was dismayed at how his heart had leapt at the thought of going to the archives, as if the possibility of seeing Malfoy was filling him with nervous anticipation. One wank, he reminded himself sternly, was not something to worry about. If he started worrying about all the fantasies he'd ever had, he would never get any work done as he'd be permanently bright red and flustered. 

It didn't help that Malfoy blushed, just a small streak of delicate pink along each cheek and the tips of his ears, when Ron appeared at the door to his office. It was disturbingly attractive, and something Ron had never seen before. Ron had distracted himself on the way down here by thinking of a reason he could possibly be needed in the archives to talk with a researcher, but temporarily forgot as he watched in fascination. He pulled himself together, though.

"Malfoy," he said, with tolerable coolness to his voice. 

"You're here about the Mecklenberg-Schwerin vampire trial documentation, aren't you?" said Malfoy, voice betraying nothing but annoyance. "I was going to send for you anyway, but since you're here you may as well come and carry the box yourself."

Malfoy rose and swept out of the room, leaving Ron to trail behind him. Unlike the calm of Hermione's offices, and the boisterous chaos of Ron's own, Malfoy's reminded him a little of an owlery, and he wasn't sure he wouldn't catch Malfoy's colleagues peering round the corners of their doors at him. There was definitely a whisper behind them as Ron waited at the carefully warded doors at the far end, letting Malfoy deal with the complex entry requirements.

Once inside, the difference was remarkable. The archives were cool and unchanging, and Ron felt very sure that various stasis and dampening charms were at work and would quickly dissipate any conversation they might have. Malfoy led them down a narrow corridor, then another, and only then did he whirl around and face Ron in apparent fury.

"You said nothing would happen!" he hissed. "You said it would wear off!"

Ron realised Malfoy was talking about the potion, and saw Malfoy realise what he was admitting at the same moment. Malfoy's mouth snapped shut and Ron blushed bright red this time, as the memory of how he thought about Malfoy thinking about him flooded through him. He pushed the thought away and decided to pretend the awkward moment hadn't happened.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, with commendable firmness, he thought, given the occasion. "I'm here because I have an idea about that trap charm and the way the potions are stored."

He outlined his ideas, and watched Malfoy's expression change through several levels of curiosity and intrigue. It was surprisingly attractive, seeing all that intent thought bent on what Ron was saying.

"Very interesting, Weasley, and not a bad set of reasoning at all." Malfoy's voice of cool condescension irritated Ron.

"I'm not stupid," he said. "They didn't make me an Auror because I look pretty with a holster, did they?"

Malfoy looked just a tiny bit embarrassed, as if he felt bad about the insult, but it seemed he couldn't help himself from twisting the knife a little more. 

"Well, it's not the most impressive holster in the world, is it?"

"Really? Did you particularly notice the size last night when you were fantasising about me?" demanded Ron, sneering as the embarrassment on Malfoy's face turned to anger.

"In my head, you were actually a gentleman," he said.

"In mine, you didn't complain so much," retorted Ron.

Ron realised what he'd admitted just as Malfoy did. Malfoy stared up at him, and Ron was amazed to see, somewhere behind the anger and mortification, some reluctant desire. He realised, in a moment of brutal honesty, that he felt it too. The physical attraction to Malfoy was definitely there; the temptation to see his passion unleashed, to have that sharp mind fixed on him, was nearly overwhelming. Ron nearly grabbed Malfoy there and then, but controlled himself and stepped back. He'd come a long way from being a hot-heated teenager, and he wasn't about to ruin things now.

"The only way this could be more embarrassing is if we'd actually slept together," muttered Malfoy.

Ron felt the tiniest bit of camaraderie with Malfoy. It was an awkward position to be in. He reached out to squeeze Malfoy's shoulder, just as if he would've if this had been Harry he'd accidentally been fantasising about, and only realised his mistake after they touched. 

Malfoy's gaze was uncharacteristically open as he looked up at Ron. The reluctant desire was still there, and Ron was sure his face reflected his own lust too. He dropped his hand and turned around awkwardly, clearing his throat and trying to pretend it hadn't happened. After a strained pause of several seconds, Malfoy cleared his own throat and led the way further into the archives, talking with determined indifference about his own response to Ron's theory.

>>>>

The problem, Ron reflected, with repressing one's reluctant lust for one's lifelong enemy, was that fate had a sick sense of humour, and Malfoy was _everywhere_. He hadn't known Malfoy came to this little wizarding pub, but he had agreed to meet Harry here and there was no point turning around and heading back out now. 

It had been a week since the potion, and Ron was sure he would have forgotten about it by now, except that he'd seen Malfoy every damn day. Broome had approved their plan, and it would have been great to be working a case directly under the Minister's office, except that the case came with a large dose of Malfoy. He'd spent the last several days carrying heavy archival boxes for Malfoy. Arguing about quidditch with Malfoy. Cleaning grime off parchment for Malfoy. Listening to Malfoy's sharp comments. Surreptitiously finding far too many things about Malfoy attractive. He was sure he wasn't the only one, either; when he'd removed his robes to carry a particularly heavy and awkward box, he was sure he'd caught Malfoy devouring him with his eyes. It was just like being at school again, except nothing like it at all.

He collected his beer and turned, catching Malfoy staring at him. The lust he'd seen hidden a few times was momentarily bare on Malfoy's face, and it surprised Ron. He was starting to feel more than mild irritation and a kind of well-worn dislike for Malfoy, and wasn't entirely sure he liked it. 

Without giving himself time to think about it, he strode over to Malfoy's table. Once there, though, his mind went blank and he wasn't able to think of anything he could say that wasn't a rehashed old insult or a blatant proposition. He took a long drink of his beer and tried to think quickly. Malfoy was looking up at him in surprise, which quickly turned to irritation.

"You great ginger lummox," he said. "If you think we should try to fuck this out of our systems, you should just say so, not just loom there." Ron put his drink down on the table and nodded.

"Okay, I was trying to be smooth, but yeah."

"You will never be smooth," said Malfoy. He cursed quietly and stood up, an action that brought him altogether too close to Ron. Ron saw the way he took a sharp breath as he realised how much taller Ron was, and he saw Malfoy's fingers twitch. "Let's go to your place; we may as well fuck in the seedy surroundings of your natural habitat, if we're going to do this."

"Okay," said Ron, and he turned and led the way back out of the pub, not bothering to shorten his stride. It made him feel marginally better to have Malfoy scuttling after him, after Malfoy had been the one to finally say what they were both thinking. "I'll side-along you," he called over his shoulder.

They landed in Ron's living room, and Ron wasn't sure whether he should offer Malfoy a drink and a tour or just get it over with. Fortunately, Malfoy appeared to have decided that getting it over with was the best way through, and he grabbed a fistful of Ron's shirt to drag him down within reach.

If Ron had imagined kissing Malfoy, which he would never admit he had, not even in the last week, he would always have thought it would be hard, almost spiteful. Malfoy's lips were soft, though, and Ron found his own hands touching Malfoy's throat were gentle, and the kiss started a low burn in his belly. 

He led the way into his bedroom, glad that the sheets on the bed were clean, and kissed Malfoy again. All his fantasies had been urgent and demanding, but he felt no need to rush now. It was weird, how good Malfoy felt in his arms, how easy it was to concentrate on the smooth skin of his neck, or the unsteady rush of his breath. They stripped off their robes and Ron toed off his shoes as Malfoy more politely unlaced his. Then he pulled Malfoy down on top of him on the bed, and how had he never realised how enticing Malfoy was before?

"No thinking," muttered Malfoy, though whether that was to himself or to Ron, he wasn't sure. Ron slid his hands up Malfoy's thighs, up his sides, pulling him down by his shoulders to kiss again. It was easier when they were kissing, and there was no chance they could remember why this was a bad idea.

Malfoy rubbed their bodies together, and the friction against his cock was blissful. Ron tipped back his head and moaned, and Malfoy took advantage of the movement to kiss his neck, his shoulder, while his hands slid up under Ron's shirt.

They wriggled out of their clothes with undignified contortions, but Ron didn't care. There was something captivating about the way Malfoy was both utterly determined to see this through, whatever it was, and so abandoned to the pleasure they found together. Ron wanted to see more of Malfoy undone with lust, and his kissed his way down Malfoy's stomach and over his pointy hipbones. Malfoy was pale and slender, and Ron felt rough and a bit ungainly next to him. The wanton, voluptuous way Malfoy's hands traced his shoulders and arms, though, reassured him. When he touched Malfoy's dick, they both shuddered and Malfoy muttered half-threats and gasped encouragement as he started to stroke. 

Malfoy came in a rush, stretched out tight and shaking hard. He slowly relaxed back against the sheets and opened his eyes to look at Ron. They were dark, intent, and Ron let himself be pushed backwards, with Malfoy looming over him, and he'd been right; it was heady to be the centre of that focus. Ron didn't care about how he looked, or what sounds he made, or even if he begged. He let Malfoy press him back against the sheets and jerk him off with swift, capable movements. Trying to keep his eyes open, he watched Malfoy lick his lips, watched him look at Ron's body spread out before him, and when their gaze met it was with the most honest look Ron had ever seen on him; triumphant, possessive, joyful. Ron closed his own eyes and came hard.

When he caught his breath and opened his eyes, Malfoy was propped up on one elbow next to him, and his expression was back to being carefully guarded. Ron fumbled for a t-shirt and offered it to Malfoy to clean up, not surprised at the fastidious little sneer it got. Ron didn't care, just accepted the t-shirt back and cleaned himself. He wondered if this was the point he should jump out of bed and send Malfoy packing, but he didn't want to do that.

"Beer?" he asked, instead. His stomach growled. "And maybe you want to stay for Muggle Indian takeaways?"

Malfoy sneered, as Ron knew he would, but he stayed anyway, pulling on his pants and eating with every evidence of pleasure even as he told a long story about the different origins of sub-continental magic. It was a short step from there to the merits or otherwise of quodpot, and from there to more sex on the couch. It wasn't until Ron was on his knees, mouth stretched around Malfoy's cock, that Ron realised that this didn't really feel like getting it out of his system. Then Malfoy pulled Ron's hair, and he climbed up onto Malfoy and they ground together, and Ron stopped thinking entirely.

>>>>

Ron was lucky that they'd pretty much finished the investigation and made their report, because he was finding it hard to wait quietly, in the part of the archive that backed onto the Auror storage facility, when he was pressed up against Draco Malfoy. He was finding it hard to let go, now they'd supposedly fucked it out of their system, and Malfoy's serene indifference was not helping.

Still, not long to go, Ron hoped. Broome had helped them set the trap, congratulating them on discovering just how the Auror facility was being used to distribute more illegal potions. Ron couldn't quite believe the gall of some people, but he supposed he'd seen worse before.

Next to him, Malfoy was very still, and Ron fought down a surge of irritation. He was the professional here, and there was no way he should be betraying more nerves than his companion. He forced himself to be calm and wait, and it was only after he'd managed to settle that he noticed the uneven hitch in Malfoy's breath. He risked a quick look at Malfoy's face. He was momentarily impressed with himself that he now recognised degrees of bored blankness, because Malfoy was definitely not calm on the inside. 

He looked at the way Malfoy's knuckles were white from his iron grip on his wand, and the tension across his shoulders, and realised that he was nervous. He wondered if this was something specific to the situation, or if Malfoy was remembering some other times he'd had to sit and wait for action. Ron knew it had taken him a long time to leave the terrors of the war behind and clear his mind when waiting like this.

Ron wrapped his hand over Malfoy's, where it clutched his wand, and squeezed soothingly. He gave Malfoy a reassuring smile, feeling better when Malfoy returned it with a look of intense irritation. If Malfoy had the mental energy to be huffy, then he was fine.

As with all Auror investigations, even those that ended up being against the actual Auror department, the end was quick and sharp, and the aftermath tedious and full of paperwork. Ron had never quite gotten used to the paperwork. Malfoy sat in the corner of Ron's office with a cup of tea and a supercilious sneer and added his bit to the necessary documents. The two of them left the desk only once, when Ron's boss, to the absolute surprise of only himself, was led away. The silence left behind was uncomfortable. A few Aurors dropped by to congratulate Ron, but most left Ron and Malfoy to their own devices.

The potions expert, Clorinda Talbot, dropped by last, though, with Hermione's report in her hands. She handed it off to Ron to go into the folder.

"Good work," she said. "That red potion breaks down quickly, though, so she did a good job on identifying the incantation used in the coagulation process."

"Breaks down quickly?" said Malfoy, drawing attention to himself for the first time. "I had thought it lingered rather."

"No, no," Talbot said. "That's not much use with a sex potion. Slather it on, get the deed done, sweat it out. No more than an hour or two of activity in the body, even if you just rubbed it on and did nothing with it."

"You're sure it's that fast to metabolise?" asked Ron, very carefully not meeting Malfoy's eyes.

"Oh yes," said Talbot. "Why? Do you have some empirical experience?" She reached for her notebook and Ron was quick to head her off.

"No, not at all. I've only seen that one once, and that was at a distance."

"That's a shame, but we're not generally allowed to dose our colleagues with illegal potions just to see how they work." Talbot sounded genuinely regretful and Ron made a mental note to be extra constantly vigilant when accepting food or drinks that she might have handled.

She left, and the office was very quiet. Most of the Aurors had gone home now, and the skeleton night crew was mostly out or in the break room with a cup of tea. Ron tried not to look at Malfoy as he filled in the last few bits of their combined report. He wasn't quite sure what he would read on Malfoy's face, and could admit to himself that he rather dreaded seeing genuine indifference there.

He shoved the last of the papers over the desk to where Malfoy waited. Ron looked at the top of his head and his clever hands as he signed in all the umpteen million places that the Aurors demanded. Malfoy straightened, stood, and slid the papers back along, but Ron wasn't looking at the papers. There was no indifference to be found on Malfoy's face, and Ron swallowed hard.

"Um, we should get a beer to celebrate," he said weakly. Malfoy's sneer was a thing of beauty.

"Really? Is that the best you can do?" he asked.

"Hey, Malfoy, it turns out that we weren't under the influence of a sex potion when we started thinking about each other naked, so let's have dinner and live happily ever after. Is that better?" snapped Ron.

"Much better," Malfoy said, and for a moment he didn't bother hiding his happiness. Ron smiled too, and fumbled over trying to secure the damn files and put his robes on at the same time, while Malfoy tapped his foot impatiently by the door. Ron was never going to complain about inter-department briefings again.


End file.
